Nothing Was Lost
by Entwife Incognito
Summary: The final battle with Red John. And the aftermath for Lisbon and Jane. Anonymous on Tumblr asked for some of these story elements. Hope I did them justice! Warning! This story has strong sexual content. If you don't like that type of material, do not read this! Disclaimer: I own nothing about The Mentalist.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Thank you to Anonymous on Tumblr for the writing prompt/request that led to this story.**_

It was going down tonight. The Department of Homeland Security had Red John located and under close surveillance somewhere northeast of Sacramento and Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon's team was leading the take down. Any number of alphabet agencies was also involved, including the FBI, plus legions of law enforcement from local environs to provide back up. Which meant the local LEOs would actually be the ramrod, going in first. They also ringed the modest residence—the land was probably worth ten times the house-set back in a large wooded section of land where the old-growth trees gave good cover. It would be a wonder if there weren't a few deaths or injuries from friendly fire as crowded and revved as all had perfect justification to be.

"You stay back, Jane!" Lisbon ordered.

"No! I'm following you in. I'm going to be there!"

"No, you're not! You're not trained for this, you're not equipped. You're not even armed. You stay here and keep behind cover. No arguments. There's no time for this. I'm sorry this didn't turn out to be an operation you could participate in."

Even though he kept his voice low, the passion in Jane's voice was clear. "Lisbon! I've always told you. Red John is mine! Even if it's not me that kills him, you can't leave me behind on this. I chose to come unarmed. I'm ceding the right to personally kill him. But I must be there!"

But Lisbon had already looped and closed a handcuff around one of Jane's wrists. Before it registered, she had looped and locked the other cuff around a low-hanging stout branch.

"I'm sorry, Jane. You leave me no choice."

Patrick Jane had never cursed at Lisbon before, and he wasn't about to start now. But he was so close he had broken a sweat. Besides, he stood a good chance of picking the cuffs.

Lisbon watched him turn beet red and sweat begin to drip down the sides of his face near the hairline and on his forehead. She knew he was furious, but all responsibility for the turn of events rested on her and she was taking no chances that he would flip and go rogue.

"You stay quiet now, Jane. We're running a police operation here. If you can't handle being told no, I'll have you escorted and restrained off the property, back by the vehicles. One word more and I have to consider you a danger to this operation. What's it going to be?"

"Here!" he said in a controlled voice. "What choice do I have? You betrayed me, Lisbon. Betrayed me."

Lisbon was not moved. She was in full cop mode and decisions like this were her responsibility. She'd deal with the fallout later. There was her signal! She had to move in. She turned and pointed one warning finger to Jane and she was gone.

Jane felt wild and desperate, a trapped animal. Anger at being tricked so easily, because he trusted Lisbon, and dismay at missing the take-down of Red John whipped him into a fury and he had to force himself into calm. He rummaged in the jacket pocket by his free arm. Nothing. Interior pocket. Nothing. He even managed to reach into the jacket pocket on his cuffed side where he though he might have put a collection of small office bits and bobs. Pants pocket or nothing! He dug and dug and found a paperclip! Liberty assured! It took only seconds to free his wrist.

He moved down the tree line to the place closest to the front door entry where the force of cops had gone through. He passed other law enforcement officers guarding the exterior area. Most knew him and assumed he was acting according to plan or at least had the indulgence of his handler, Senior Agent Lisbon. And they knew of his history and interest in the Red John case. So they let him pass.

He slipped up the porch and entered through the burst door. Cops were milling around. The house was obviously clear. His heart fell. Another false alarm! Had Red John been tipped off and slipped away?

None of his team was in sight. He showed his ID badge to one of the officers. "Agent Lisbon?" The cop pointed to the back of the house. All activity was focused on a short paved hilltop runway laid well beyond what looked to be a metal airplane hangar that could be seen at a modest distance in the woods. Echoes of plane engines and gunfire could be heard coming from that direction. Jane headed down the path to the hangar where he'd been told Lisbon was. As he approached the door at the end of the path, he heard gunfire inside.

Jane cautiously opened the door and heard Lisbon call, "Jane! Get down! Damn it! Get down!"

He went down at a run and slid past a wide aisle made between stacks of crates, storage containers and metal barrels, scrabbling the rest of the way to Lisbon's side. The line of storage containers made a narrow walkway on this end of the hangar where maybe three could walk abreast. Gunshot hit the wall behind them, spinning small bits of debris, sometimes spraying them with fine grit. What was Lisbon doing here by herself? "Who's firing?"

"It's Haffner. He came in with us, but he's trying to escape on a plane. They're chasing the one taking off, but he's not on it. Hafner is Red John, Jane. And he's trapped in here with us. I can't call for back up. We're on radio silence."

"Where are they? Where's our team?"

"People have fanned out all over these woods. I think they fell for a decoy play. I was bringing up the rear, searching slow, didn't want to miss anything. Well behind them when I heard movement over there and started taking fire."

"I've got to go through there." She nodded towards the aisle between the storage clutter.

Jane peeked out. Now that it had come to it, he couldn't have insisted on being the one to kill Red John. It was foolishness in this situation. It would put the serial killer's capture in jeopardy. And Lisbon in danger. He had to help Lisbon do what she needed to do to get him. "There's not much cover."

"I'll have to move fast. Can you make some kind of distraction? Knock something over? It may let me cover enough ground to pin him down with my fire."

Lisbon needed to be on the other side of him to carry out her plan. "Raise up, Jane. Just lift up like you're doing a big push-up or something. As you go over me, I'll go under you. That way, we can both stay low."

Carnival life paid off for Jane here. It was similar to moves he'd seen acrobat acts make all the time when he was a kid.

"Okay. Tell me wh—"

"Now!"

Their timing was a little off. Lisbon ended up on her back facing Jane who was making a cage of his body over her so that she could pass under him. Her gun arm was raised. Everything stopped for a moment as they looked at each other for what could be the last time. It was the closest they'd ever been, physically. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, but they catalogued one another in pieces of a moment. Jane gently pushed her gun arm down.

Lisbon's eyes were wide, dark as the shadow-dappled woods outside and staring at him with something that had nothing to do with where they were or what they were supposed to be doing. Her color was high and a sheen of sweat covered her face, grimy with the dirt and debris of her fight. Jane could see she'd been chewing on her lower lip. It looked chapped and a little swollen.

Sweat captured the curls around Jane's hairline and plastered them against his skin, coiling the rest into a riot. The light in his eyes was the sea on fire as if the heat of his pink cheeks had set them ablaze in his shadowed face. His lips were full and pressed together, but plumped, puckered, and coming closer to Lisbon's. For a kiss? The timing was all Jane but she felt the grace of the moment cling like a bubble between them, and welcomed what could be first and last.

It was very brief, a tiny sucking smack, but it branded each mouth indelibly as they looked at each other almost in wonder.

Jane shifted his weight to the other arm so that Lisbon could roll free, and she crouched at the opening, then nodded to him. Knowing she would be heading to the far side, Jane scrambled low past the aisle and towards the door he had entered, pushing stacked barrels over where he could. It drew fire towards him! When he looked back, Lisbon had gone. He stood to see where, peeking through spaces created by the toppled barrels, and went down, spun by what felt like the blow of a sledgehammer to his upper chest. He blacked out.

When Jane awoke, he could hear more gunfire, but it seemed to have moved further to the other end of the large building. The massive empty space magnified the sound of the gunshots. When they suddenly stopped, the silence seemed to echo louder than the gunfire. Jane tried to move, call to Lisbon, but pain pinched what little breath he had. He felt his heart slamming irregularly in his chest and passed out again.

Ray Hafner lay in blood still seeping into a pool on the concrete floor of the hangar. Lisbon knew he was dead but checked his pulse anyway to confirm it. He stared upward as if in shock at his fate. Radio silence had not yet been lifted. She would have to alert someone and start getting the word out. Where was Jane? He was bound to have followed her after creating the distraction she'd asked of him. Worked perfectly, too!

"Jane!" Lisbon called loudly. "Hafner's dead. We got him." No answer. "Jane! It's okay to come out now." She stood, trying to get a visual on him. Was he sulking, upset because she had been the one to get Red John?

No. Nothing would stop him from looking at this dead body! A finger of dread ran up her spine like ice. Where was he? Running towards where she'd last seen him, Lisbon called loudly for him to respond. As she approached the aisle between the containers, she saw his shoes sticking out from the other side. He was down! "Jane! Jane! Are you all right?"

He didn't move. Oh my god, he was so white, he looked gray! Dry sobs, wrung by fear, burst from Lisbon's chest before she had even kneeled and put her hands on him. Did he have a pulse? She couldn't feel it. "No, Jane, no. Not now," she whispered to them both. "Jane. Jane. I love you. Don't leave me. Don't go." She examined the front of his clothing. There was a bullet hole in his jacket near his heart, but no blood.

Lisbon pushed back his open jacket, calling his name forcefully, trying to quell her panic. How long had he been out? Not breathing? But there was no blood. He looked swollen, his vest tight. Her fingers stumbled to open a button and then wasted no time rending the garment, popped buttons going everywhere, then rent his shirt open as well.

What? Oh, thank God! He was wearing a bulletproof vest. Why was he hiding it, wearing it next to his skin instead of in obvious view? Then her breath caught in her chest because there, over his heart, was a flattened slug. Even with a vest, the force of being hit that close to the heart could cause cardiac arrest.

Tearing the strips loose, Lisbon flipped the front of the vest over Jane's head and felt again for a pulse. She saw his chest rise, still breathing! She could feel a pulse at his neck, weak, too weak to relieve her fears but also preventing CPR. Instead, she started massaging his chest, his shoulders, the base of his neck, avoiding the ugly bruise, blackening from purple, forming where he had taken the force of the bullet. "Jane. It's me. Lisbon. Wake up. Please wake up."

Laying her hand lightly on his stomach, she applied enough mild pressure to shake him a little, then lowered it over his trousers to his belly. He contracted then, forcing a lusty breath from his mouth along with a moan. "That's it, Jane. Deep breaths. Get your heart pumping. Come on. Come back to me."

His breathing was deeper now and he was no longer gray although still very pale. Lisbon took off her jacket and covered Jane's chest to keep him warm. She used her bulletproof vest to elevate his legs to help prevent him from going into shock. Her radio crackled and a voice announced the end of radio silence, calling those not actively engaged with suspects or evidence to report in or return to the command center. They didn't know Red John lay dead. Lisbon called in her location, saying Hafner was dead and to get the paramedics to Jane. Then she resumed tending to her partner.

Pushing the damp hair from his clammy face, Lisbon whispered her prayers for his health as she caressed his cheeks and forehead, stealing a kiss from his warming lips, pulling the bottom one into her mouth a little, tonguing it, hoping to get him to respond, wake up. In a moment, Jane's eyes fluttered open and he stared unknowingly, his eyes as bright as sun on the sea until Lisbon called his name again.

When he focused on Lisbon's face he thought of emeralds and pearls, glistening in reflected light. She was crying, her huge flowing tears like a strand of pearls trailing from those wide green eyes, dropping onto his face. She was so pale, highlighting the freckles on her face, and she was calling his name, laughing in relief. He smiled at her and lifted his hand to her face where she caught it and pressed it to her cheek. "Oh. Oh. Oh, thank god. Jane, are you okay?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure what happened."

"You were shot! Why didn't you tell me you were wearing a vest? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Shot?" Jane made a move to sit up but barked in pain at the same time Lisbon put her hand on his good shoulder and pressed him back.

"The vest stopped the bullet, but you took the force of it right over your heart. I think your heart stopped, but by the time I got the vest off you to do CPR, you were starting to come around." Her voice broke. "I thought you might die." She wiped the lovely pearls from her cheeks, smearing them with the dirt and grit on her face. "I repeat, Jane. Why didn't you tell me you were wearing a vest?"

"You didn't give me a chance. You were too busy dressing me down and barking orders."

"The real reason, Jane. Why were you wearing it next to your skin? Instead of over your clothes?"

"I didn't want you to see. I thought you would make me stay behind, think I was too eager. And I didn't want Red John to know in case I had to confront him. Gave me a tiny advantage."

"Yes, I would have kept you back, thinking you were planning to rush in and do something rash. As you did, you jackass!" She thumped him on the side of his arm. "I should have known better. You know, Jane, you really don't make sense sometimes."

"Why did you handcuff me, Lisbon? You betrayed me!"

"I was trying to keep you and everyone around you alive." She tried to lighten the moment. "What would I do without you to drive me nuts?"

"You knew handcuffs wouldn't stop me. Why bother?"

"At least it slowed you down, Jane. I have to admit. Turns out I was very glad you got loose and followed me. The timing was good. But you ended up shot! You could have died, you idiot! Just like I said."

"I told you so? Really? Can we not talk about this any more right now?" He was starting to tire. "What happened to Red John?"

"He's dead." Lisbon's mouth set and she averted her eyes.

"And . . . ?"

"I shot him. Three in the chest. I'm sure they went all the way through. If he didn't die instantly, he bled out so fast, it didn't make a difference."

"You brought down Red John?"

"Well . . . yes. Does that surprise you?"

"No. I'm surprised I'm happy it was you and not me." He coughed and Lisbon raised him as carefully as she could to rest his head on her crossed legs.

"The paramedics are coming, Jane. Hang in there."

"I'm okay, but I'm sleepy now."

Lisbon checked his pulse again. It seemed strong and his color was good, so she just said, "Okay. Just rest now. Don't worry about anything. I've got you now." Settling her hands loosely at his shoulders, she patted a soothing tattoo.

Jane slipped into a comfortable doze, saying, "I'm fine now. Lisbon's got me."

The paramedics arrived a few minutes later and whisked Jane off to the hospital. His calls for Lisbon to come with him finally faded in the distance, not accepting her explanations that she would see him as soon as possible. The coroner arrived to begin with the body. Lisbon was debriefed initially at the scene and released from the first phase of a long process of documenting and closing the case against Red John. All she really wanted to do was get to the hospital to be with Jane until she was sure he was fine.


	2. Chapter 2

Lisbon pushed open the hospital room door and before it could close behind her, Jane, who had been watching for her in something of a temper, fretful and antagonistic to anyone who approached, called out to her.

"Where were you? You weren't here." Jane looked at Lisbon reproachfully. He spoke like a rebellious three-year-old, stuck with a mean babysitter past his dinnertime.

Lisbon adjusted her tone accordingly. He'd been injured after all and was probably in a lot of pain. Plus, no telling what medications would he'd been given. "I know. I'm sorry. I came as soon as they released me. There's law enforcement out there to stand guard, make sure you're not alone and unattended."

"But I am."

Lisbon cocked her head at him, suspicious. "Did you run them out?"

"How could I do that? I'm in the bed and they have guns."

"Right. As if you ever needed a gun to be armed." She looked at him in amused recognition of just how well armed he was.

Jane smiled, big and pleased. "Lisbon. You flatter me!"

"You're hopeless, Jane. You're going to have to apologize to them. And I mean now. We work with these people. They're part of the team, too." She turned to leave. If he was clear-headed enough to be pleased at his own obnoxiousness, he was able to apologize.

"No! I mean, don't go. You just got here."

"I'm not leaving, Jane. Don't worry. I'll be staying the night with you. I'm just going to get the two officers who've been on watch so you can say sorry. And you will, won't you."

A groan of forced consent rose from Jane's chest as Lisbon went out the door, only to return with the officers, one male and one female, who crossed her arms and looked annoyed.

"Officer Jack Thompson. Officer Regina Findley. This is Patrick Jane, consultant to the CBI." Lisbon cocked an eyebrow. "Jane . . . ?"

His upper lip drawn tight over his teeth and his eyes averted, Jane greeted the pair with an upward acknowledgement of his chin. "Ahhhhhnn . . . " He glanced at a frowning Lisbon, her arms crossed. She knew he was too weak to fight her bullying. "Tsts. I didn't mean to be such a pain in the ass. I was in pain and grumpy. Sorry."

Officer Findley rolled her eyes over to Lisbon, who shrugged, 'Gimme a break, okay?' The officer said, "Yeah. Fine. Hope you get better."

Her male counterpart just grunted and nodded his chin at Jane and then arched his eyebrows and gave his head a little toss towards Lisbon to indicate that he had been forced by women into this unmanly situation. "Okay. Fine."

Jane said quietly, "Thank you both."

"Okay then. Thank you, officers. I'll take it from here." When they had left the room, Lisbon gave an exaggerated smile. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Jane frowned and looked away.

"And to think you could have avoided the whole thing by just being nice. Imagine that."

"Now I'm tired, Lisbon. I hope you're happy."

"If you're going to get some sleep, we'll both be happy. I can get some shut-eye in this chair." She looked rather longingly at the nice recliner style visitor's chair.

Jane rolled to his side with his back towards her, wincing and making small sounds of pain and effort.

Lisbon stepped up and ruffled the hair on the crown of his head. "That's okay, lawman. You saved my life today." She set her hand on his arm at the shoulder and bent down to press her cheek against his. "Thank you."

He covered her hand with his, not daring to turn his body to face her as he remembered kissing her on the floor of that hangar. "Do you remember when I . . ."

"What?"

Jane forgot his injury and flung himself to face her, screaming in pain as he turned back. He forced himself to take deep slow breaths. When he could talk, he looked towards her over his shoulder. "You're not going to go there, are you?"

"What?"

"Punish me for my past sins. Cruel, Lisbon. It's just cruel." Too much strain to twist himself only to half-see her, he lowered his head back on the pillow.

"I don't know what you mean." Hell yeah, she was going to punish him. " Oh. You mean do I remember that you kissed me?"

Jane pretended to be confused but he smiled in pleasure, hidden from Lisbon's view. "I kissed you?"

Lisbon just stared at his back. There was a chill in her voice when she answered, "No, I could never hurt you like you hurt me. I suppose you not remembering what you said to me before you pretend shot me is less important than me not remembering that you kissed me."

"Except you _do_ remember."

"Are you still denying—"

"No! No. I said 'love you' and I meant it. How could anyone not love you, Lisbon?"

"You're going with that, then? Okay. But I still win. I kissed you and I know you don't remember that."

"What? No. You kissed me?" When did she do that? "You stole a kiss while I was unconscious."

"Well, yes. I mean, no!"

"Yes. And no. You did! You stole a kiss!"

"Damn it, Jane! I was trying to bring you around; your pulse was so weak. And the pallor. You were gray. I think your heart stopped beating until I got the vest off of you. You couldn't really hear me and I was desperate. I thought if I touched you, kissed you like you kissed me, you would know it was me, that I was with you and to come back."

"You woke me like Sleeping Beauty?"

Lisbon snorted. "I wouldn't go that far."

"You are! You're my Princess Charming. My angry little Princess Charming." Jane smiled. Then his face froze in surprise. "Wait. You touched me? Lisbon. What did you do?"

"What do you take me for? I just massaged your neck and the back of your head and your shoulders and your, your chest. To get the blood flowing, wake you up."

"And that's all?"

"Well, your tummy, too."

"My tummy? What am I, five years old? Are you my mommy?"

"No, of course not. I'm Princess Charming. Remember? Anyway, that's when you came around."

"I bet." His belly was very sensitive to a woman's touch. Probably got his heart pumping, all right! "Did, uh, anything happen?"

"Like what?"

"I mean, did my – did I . . . ?" His voice trailed off in a questioning noise and a little shrug to signal what he didn't want to say.

Lisbon's eyes widened and she felt herself blushing as she understood what he was getting at! "No! I mean how would I know? Jesus, Jane! I didn't have my hands down your pants for goodness sake! I was trying to get you back to life. Get a grip."

He snickered. "Oh. Well, we did kiss after all . . ."

"You have a strange way of looking at relationships, Jane. Look. I'm going to chalk this whole conversation up to the strains of the day, okay? The main thing is Red John is dead and you don't have that hanging over your neck anymore."

"Lisbon. He was hanging over your neck, too, and you know it."

"That's true. And neither of us was in our right mind. You're still not. Your heart stopped, Jane. Each of us is a single person in a lonely job where who we see most is each other. When you think you might die or someone you care about might die, all sorts of things can happen that don't mean anything in real life."

"If you say so. But it sounds like something out of a psychology book or a police training manual."

"I thought you were tired. Now get some rest. I'm going to collapse in this chair."

"We're not done with this, Princess Charming."

Drawing up the blanket from the bottom of the bed, she pulled it to his shoulder, covering Jane's back where the hospital gown gapped.

"I don't know what else there is to discuss." She did, but she didn't want to discuss it. There were still too many games being played. People got hurt that way.

Jane adjusted himself for sleep with much grunting and groaning and lay on his side staring at the dark window. Lisbon didn't take what had happened seriously. He thumbed the button on his pain medication pump and was asleep in a minute.

Lisbon's thoughts were more unsettled and she didn't have anything to knock her out. Honestly. What went on in that mind of Jane's? How could he think she would take advantage of him like that? Because that's what he would do? Never! Be tempted to do? No, not even that. To be honest, if she'd had to, she'd have done anything that she thought would bring him out of the state he was in. Anything. But not because of opportunity and a prurient interest. And she didn't believe he would, either.

Was he projecting what he wished she would do to him? Now that actually made some sense. He wanted her to-. She couldn't-. She made herself stop thinking by counting her breaths, as Jane had taught her. She was asleep in a minute.


	3. Chapter 3

Jane returned to work, light duty, in a week and the whole team began its adjustment to life without Red John as they compiled the last of the case file and tidied the evidence away. There was no doubt that a pall had been lifted from the team, but the change in Patrick Jane was astounding.

Always a charmer with his smile, he grinned like a fool most of the time now. He broke into dance, song, recitation at least three times a day. It kept them all laughing, maintaining the celebratory mood at what they had truly accomplished in eliminating Red John.

There was not a hint of resentment in Patrick that he had not been the one to bring the serial killer down. It was enough that he had participated, even being considered a hero by many for helping Lisbon when she was alone in the fight. There was further laud in having been wounded and in cheating death with his bulletproof vest, even technically losing his life even though he had revived spontaneously. In fact, many had picked up Lisbon's affectionate habit of calling him 'Lawman' to recognize his indispensible contribution to true partnership and concurrent acceptance, if, perhaps, very limited, of 'The Code.' Patrick Jane now had an official cop nickname. And an official commendation in the wings. It pleased him very much.

Bertram was moving into Minelli's old position. Teresa was filling Bertram's post. And Cho would take over the team. Van Pelt moved into a more technical role within the agency though still in the same building, officially separating her from the team but also freeing Rigsby and her to continue their relationship as they saw fit.

Teresa's first act was working to ease and clarify, where she could and with Bertram's approval, the policy about dating within the agency. The first point to codify was that consultants were not considered pro forma employees of the agency, nor constricted to the personnel regulations that governed inter- and intra-office relationships. Jane raised his eyebrows when the memo was released, cheered by its contents, but he and Lisbon did not discuss it.

Jane remained Lisbon's charge as consultant to the CBI and although they didn't see each other on crime scenes very often, Lisbon had her office couch moved into her new digs and Jane could often be found there when times were slow, talking to Lisbon or comfortably napping. They made frequent time for each other in meeting for lunch, then dinner, then, of all things, dancing. Teresa was thrilled to learn Patrick was not only good at it, but liked it, especially the slow dance closeness to her that it brought. Patrick was just as pleased to find how much Teresa enjoyed dressing up, the femininity of it, something her job would never allow her to do.

It wasn't long before they were spending all their free time together, which Lisbon had considerably more of in her new position since she wasn't responsible for cases anymore, even accounting for her required attendance at more political functions. There was the beach, picnicking and light hiking—Patrick loved to go for walks—a little theatre, symphony. It was becoming a very full life for both of them. That, and perhaps more, showed in their radiant faces.

Lisbon could feel the seriousness of their relationship and welcomed it. The game-playing was virtually gone, down to just the regular tease and banter that passed constantly between them. Their affection for each other was bottomless and filled with small hugs and even kisses on the cheek, walking arm in arm. But no serious passion had been expressed.

She felt ready to move deeper into their relationship, but she was unsure of Patrick's feelings. His happiness was so broad and deep right now. Was he content for things to stay as they were? Thinking wistfully that a little old-fashioned tradition would be helpful, Lisbon regretted she had no father to ask Patrick his intentions. She would have to do it herself. That wasn't going to be easy. It meant she would have to face the answer with no intercessor to soften the blow if the news was bad.

Her passion for him was a motor, always on and purring, always producing heat. This was definitely not Platonic on her side. Her desire to consummate the relationship was becoming painful and burdensome. She couldn't satisfy it by herself anymore. Didn't want to.

She decided to go straight shooter and caught him in her kitchen when they were cleaning up after dinner. He was washing; she was drying. They were barefoot, just enjoying the simplicity of the evening.

"Jane, I need to ask you something."

"Anything, Lisbon."

"I don't have a dad anymore, so I just have to ask you . . . "

He looked at her calmly. It was about time. He had to move at her pace and it seemed they might have finally caught up with each other.

"Where do you see our relationship going from here? I mean, simply, what are your intentions with me?"

"How you ask me this . . . it's good, Lisbon. You are a person of great worth, value. It's right that you know what intentions a suitor would have."

Lisbon's face softened. That sounded very nice. "A suitor."

"Yes. There really isn't another way to describe it, is there? I want to win your heart. I want to win your love. I intend to marry you as soon as you'll have me. If you'll have me."

"Marriage? You never said . . . "

"I didn't want to spoil my chances, frighten you away, by pushing you before you trusted me."

"I could never be frightened of you, Patrick. I trust you. Don't you know that?"

"Well, yes, you trust me for a lot of things, important things. But I don't think you quite trust me as a mate."

"I don't know you as a mate."

"Well, there's that, too."

"I think you're attracted to me. I think you would want to make love to me."

"Teresa. I empty myself into the shower for you every morning. I burn for you all day. I'm sure I'm really a phoenix and combust every night only to return from the ashes every morning just to get to see you the next day. I've got it bad, sweetheart. Real bad. And it's all for you."

What he said should have shocked her. But instead it sparked her. He trusted her enough, or was willing to take the chance, to tell her openly that she drove him to relieve his passion for her every morning. It was such an erotic thing to say and she wanted to hear more of it. She wanted to see what he did to himself on account of her! Would he share that with her? She would with him. The thought of everything of pleasure that they had yet to learn of one another was dizzying.

"I do the same in my bed, but at night. I dream of your body, Patrick. I'm wet all the time." She looked carefully into his eyes. "I want you to make love to me. But you're right. I'm also afraid of being mated to you. Isn't that something we have to help each other get used to? I mean, if we want it?"

"Are you saying yes to me?"

"I'm saying yes. Yes."

They seemed frozen in time, staring at one another with almost delirious smiles.

Their first real kiss under their new circumstances—Lisbon wouldn't count the ones in the airplane hangar under threat of their lives, even if she had tongued his lower lip—occurred then, almost by accident. Lisbon, staring into Patrick's eyes, dropped the cutlery she was drying with a towel. They both bent to retrieve it. When they stood at the same time they were so close that both reached for each other together. The kiss was like bright sunlight, radiating warmth throughout their bodies. Neither wanted to come up for air.

A spectacular make out session on the couch followed. Being free to kiss one another as much and as deeply as they wished left them chapped and swollen, everything on their faces, ears and necks damp. Yet still they were insatiable. Eventually they became so desperate to get out of their clothing that they had to stop kissing. Patrick removed his vest, opened in his casual way for after work and moved his hand to the buttons of Lisbon's blouse.

She whispered softly, "Wait. Let me up and let's go to the bedroom."

Both minds were swimming! This day they would consummate their relationship! Both were suddenly afraid, worried about how to proceed. Patrick followed Teresa to her bedroom and stood near her waiting since she had not gone to her bed or indicated what she wanted to happen. But then she spoke, somewhat shyly he thought.

"Please. If it's okay, I want to undress myself and you to undress yourself. We can go one by one, if you want."

"Sounds sexy." Intrigued, curious, aroused, he smiled but he could see that Lisbon was holding back, turning her head, blushing and averting her eyes. So much intimacy was almost too much for her right now. "Are you sure you want this at all?"

Her head snapped up then and she said emphatically, "Oh, yes! I just don't want to be overwhelmed, until I get used to you, we get used to each other. It's a lot, to do this after ten years. But yes, I want it, want you, with all my heart, Patrick. Please don't doubt it. We can seduce each other out of our clothing at another time. Right now, I just want each of us to start out with nothing."

"It sounds very nice, Teresa. I would love to watch you undress." When she looked at him again, he said, "Shall we start?"

She smiled and nodded. "Thanks for understanding."

"There's nothing to understand, nothing. I love all of this, us, what we're doing. You couldn't please me more. I hope I'll please you."

"Oh, yes. I mean, you do, you will."

Patrick started first, unbuttoning and removing his shirt slowly as he watched Teresa unbutton her blouse. Her lingerie was shell pink, so feminine and delicate. She pulled the chemise over her head and put her arms behind to unclasp her bra, a silken thing that framed her cleavage, pressing against it like dawn mist. He felt the gift of watching her breasts bounce free and loving their shape. He took off his pants as she watched, both of them now standing in their underwear and bare feet. She stared at his tented shorts, desiring him, gasping and looking at his face, her eyes inky green pools, when he took them down. She hurried to get out of hers, baring a dainty delta dusted with dark curls.

Patrick saw how truly petite she was, how tiny. Her breasts had always seemed small to him, but naked he could see they were in full proportion to her stature, as succulent and ripe as any woman. They enchanted him, oval and dense as ripe mangos. He knew his body was responding to the sight.

When he held out his hand she took it, drawn into his embrace for another riotous kiss, breathless as he led her to the bed. They crawled in together, the crisp clean sheets crinkling as they moved over them. Patrick could see she was still tense and hoped they would get to the root of it in their lovemaking so that she would be free. He needed to be sure she wanted him to proceed.

"Do you mind if I explore you?" he asked.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"I want to concentrate on you. Get to know you . . . this way."

"Don't we want to get to know each other?"

"We will. Do you especially want to be active with me right now, take the lead?"

"No. Not really. I'm a little anxious."

"You're a lot anxious. You don't really trust me yet."

"If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't be doing this."

"Okay. I'm not sure." He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead with gentle fingers. "I do really want to show you that you can trust me with your body."

"It's not that, Patrick. I want you to find me pleasing, desirable after waiting all this time and I'm afraid I won't be. It makes me feel a little frozen, that's all." It wasn't quite all. "Do we have to talk so much?"

Patrick plucked softly at her lips, lingering but not asking himself in. "While you're frozen there, and we're not talking, I want to explore you. Is that okay?"

He was warm and relaxed, even yielding, rocking his body against her in movements so small it was hard to notice, but it lulled her, made her feel relaxed and secure. His flesh had a wonderful scent, manly and enticing. "Yes," she sighed, "oh, yes."

Before she finished sighing assent, Patrick's lips were behind her ear, pressing warm wet smooches slowly down her neck to her jaw line, under her chin, at her throat, charging the connections to her breasts and pelvis. When she reacted, moved, sighed, he would linger a few moments. His kisses filled her with something warm and alive that came through his lips, like he was trying to tell her something that didn't have words. It was as golden as sweet brandy or warm honey, pouring in wherever he put his lips.

When he lifted her arms to cherish places near her breasts, the nipples thrilled, begging for his mouth. How he wanted to go there, his own body responding in kind. Instead his lips caressed the insides her elbows, tongued the pulse at her wrists, and nibbled high on her ribs. The sugary juice of his kisses filled her like fruit when it ripens in the sun, the golden nectar making her skin almost translucent as it pushed its heat to the surfaces. He traveled the back of her neck and under her shoulder blades. She was drowsy drunk on the juices flowing in her when he turned her to her stomach, breathing a passion that quickened him. Yet he moved not a moment faster.

Teresa's hips were a garden of pleasure! Everywhere Patrick touched quivered with excitement, from her waist to the top of her buttocks but particularly in the little triangle above the cleft. Her hips writhed, undulated, and her whimpering was plaintive, begging. So sensitive! He played his fingers there to watch her flesh ripple, the waves of her ass as she contained her movements in order to tolerate the stimulation, breathing and moaning and calling it out instead. She was talking to him, all right.

By the time Patrick reached the base of her fanny and the creases where it joined her legs, the stimulation allowed her only to breathe and arch. He moved to the backs of her knees, even the backs of her ankles. He licked and chewed the sides of her feet until she was crying. What he was filling her with had to burst out somehow and it chose tears.

When he feasted on her breasts, she could feel him draw some of the sweetness into himself, taking for the first time but she had plenty. He stroked them full and then drew from the nipple, pushing and squeezing the globes so tenderly to his mouth, keeping his hands filled with them, catching his breath only when he had to. No one had ever, ever touched her like this.

His mouth skimmed her ribs, riding them to her rippling stomach and down to her belly. She was crying again, but a different sound, of distress, anticipating his destination. Going back to her lips for a kiss, he whispered in her ear, "Why are you crying, Teresa, tell me." He was afraid there was something important he didn't know and didn't want to make a mistake with her, so near to exploring what waited for him between her legs.

His voice drew quiet sobs, and she spoke with a certain dread. "I'm afraid to lose our friendship if something goes wrong with this."

"Ohhhhhhh. I understand. I'm scared of that, too. Very scared. That's why I want to take my time with you here, explore you. So we can see that it's okay. I don't want to mess it up. Am I okay?"

Teresa groaned a few throaty sobs and wailed, "My body is a traitor. I want you so bad. I have for so long. It won't let me say no to you."

"You want to say no?"

"No! Only my fear wants to say that."

"Are you afraid now?"

She whispered, "Yes. No. I want you more. I just don't want to lose you."

Patrick was covering her face with kisses now, tasting the salt of her tears. "Well, we just won't lose each other. I would die if I lose you, Teresa. But I will die if I don't express my love to you this way when we both want it."

"Yes. We won't lose each other." Teresa started to calm from her tears with deep shaking breaths. "Can we stop talking now?"

"Mmmmmmm. Where was I?"

"My tits. You were filling them up."

He smiled as he moved where she wanted him, finding her utterly lovely through and through. "Was I? How wonderful for us both."

"Yes. It was. Ah! Is."

This time when he approached her core, Teresa was moaning and sighing. He kissed the creases at her legs first. They were so sensitive especially where they met her torso that she flung her legs wide so he could reach from front to back with his mouth and tongue.

She was dripping onto the sheets, the whole cleft of her vulva glistening like a morning flower. When he licked there, she arched and cried out his name and Patrick could hold back with little kisses no longer. He ravaged this mouth as they had plundered each other's lips. This mouth was swollen with desire and he sucked each lip in turn fully into his mouth and onto his tongue, entering her in the process.

When he drew on her clit, she pushed and slid against his lips but he soon caught her and held on, pressing lightly on her legs to contain her movements. It was only moments until she came in great waves and he rode them all out with his mouth on her, showing no mercy, and then licked her gently until her hips settled from the spasms and her high calls faded into whispering sighs.

She drew him up to kiss him, whispered the singularity of what he done to her entire body and how wonderful he felt kissing her so intimately and thoroughly. "I want to explore you the same way you did me. But I don't think now's the right time."

"No. I'm a toaster, remember? And I am ON. I am on for you, my belladonna, only for you. Will you have me into your body?"

In answer, Teresa pushed him to his back and straddled him in one fluid movement, resting wetly on his belly and feeling the length of him. He was rigid and standing against the dimpled triangle of her ass, making her tremble and squirm as it tickled. She tickled back by leaning on his chest and caressing it with the cleft of her ass.

It was Patrick's turn to moan now as she lifted her hips and slid him inside her. She cupped underneath his hip bones with her feet, tucking them to grip with the soles.

He got lost in the sensation as Teresa used the extra tension in her legs as a spring to ride him with more force, gliding on her slick juices.

He was solid, demanding, filling her and catching her rhythm to move with her, everything she could wish for. Patrick arched his back, pushing his pelvis up to force himself deeper inside, allowing her to take over.

"More. More," he panted. "Oh, you're going to bust me wide open when I come, Teresa!"

Driven to her deepest nature, his words sent a surge of passion through her and she focused her movement to the hips alone, loose and fluid, concentrating only on the swelling length that impaled her.

"I'm so close now," she warned.

"Any time. I want to feel you squeezing me when you fall over the edge. Take me with you, belladonna!"

Teresa's breath covered a low growl, pulsing from her chest with each stroke. Suddenly she felt the orgasm grab her, silence her as it built to the inevitable crest. The nerves rooted in her core radiated, burning threads across her groin, setting her into the spasms of her release. Locking her hips against Patrick, she felt him shudder inside her as he groaned a throaty call of pleasure, grinding into her as her waves hit him. His voice shifted suddenly high as his climax hit him like lightning and electricity.

Spent, she fell towards toward his chest, but he caught her, curling himself to tongue and suck her nipples, still erect from her climax. He made her cry out with every noisy mouthful he took and added his own voice as she sunk deep onto him again and writhed in response to what he was doing with her breasts. Finally, he eased gently back down, carrying her with him as they lay to recover together.

Patrick sighed. "To think we've waited ten years for this.

"Ten? I haven't been pining for you that long."

"More's the pity for me."

"We only met ten years ago."

"I know. The day you picked me up off the floor in front of the elevator with a bloody nose. The moment I looked into your cleavage."

"Stop. You did not!"

"Oh, yes I did. I bet it shows up on the security footage, if it goes back that far. I had to pull my head back and get just the right angle to focus on it. You were wearing something pretty low cut. I figured you were advertising, wanted me to look."

"Jane! Not even the moment you looked into my eyes? Or something. Anything."

"Nope. Your cleavage. I've never been the same. Your eyes came very soon after, though. But probably not before your sweet ass."

Teresa slapped his arm playfully, but hard enough that Patrick drew it away.

Teresa was somber. "Red John stole ten years of this from me." She looked at Patrick with wide, doleful eyes."

Patrick thought for a moment. "No. As hard as it's been, what we have now couldn't have happened ten years ago. It couldn't possibly have worked, Teresa. Think about it. I was nowhere near ready. You would have slapped my face off if I'd tried. We've been through a lot together. And it's made us ready. Don't regret the time. We were together."

She smiled at him, some of that sweet nectar he had filled her with shone from her heart as love. "Yes. We've been together the whole time."

She rubbed a hand along the top of his thigh. "Ready for a shower, Patrick?"

The shower was another playground for the new lovers and Patrick took her again, pinned tight against the tile wall. She climbed his legs and then spread hers wide open, her feet gripping his hip bones so that he could pound into her, warm water sheeting down his back. He reveled in Teresa's cries as she came, high and so responsive to what was happening in her body, like a bird singing because it can do nothing else.

When they were dry it was late and they collapsed happily into the bed and fell asleep in each other's arms.

-o-

Patrick became dimly aware that his right leg was in the air and his hand was wrapped around his stiffening shaft. A beguiling sensation was filling his groin. Something hard kept nudging him uncomfortably in the middle of his back and another was wedged under his chin and pushing against his shoulder. His backside was completely wrapped in pleasant cushiony warmth. He was distracted from puzzling out these various bits of information by blots of moist warmth that bloomed all over the sensitive region behind his balls. During pauses between these blossoms, puffs of heated air landed and then rolled across them. Hot streams of sensation traveled like lava from the root of a mountain. Groaning, Patrick tightened his fist and began to stroke his cock slowly. This was the best wet dream ever.

The cushion against his backside shifted and the force that had been pressing to hold his leg up slid down and lightly brushed what had been blooming with heat moments ago. His leg now crooked over what had to be a wriggling ribcage. Suckling kisses warmed the creases of his legs and began to travel up his bottom to rain all over the cheeks of his ass. Patrick had never dreamed anything quite like this. Was that a smallish foot pressed under his chin?

"Oh God, Patrick. You have the roundest, sweetest set of butt cheeks I have ever seen on a grown man in my life!" This was Teresa's voice, breathing the words out in a low moan behind him. Still kissing and kneading, she slipped a hand between his legs, lightly pressing the base of his ass and, brushing over his fist, gently caressed the plump head of his penis. "Keep going," she said. "I want to watch you."

Patrick marveled at the rush of erotic pleasure that Teresa's words and actions gave him. The woman had a lascivious nature that certainly felt safe enough to show itself this morning, and he was its object! He pumped himself slowly against her exploring hand, barely awake, speechless and willing.

She made a little room and rolled Patrick to his back for a better view, laying her head on his thigh. Teresa could see that her attention was a powerful turn-on, as he increased his speed over his lengthening and swelling flesh.

Patrick looked at the woman who had her hand on him, his Teresa. Her breasts were tipped in pink, erect with arousal. She lay on her side, a leg crooked and propping her body towards him with a view directly to her own sex, mostly closed and dusted with short curls of hair that folded moistly into the crease that held the entrance to her body.

"Teresa!" He ended with one long stroke and pressed into the wrapped palm of her hand, grunting a soft rhythm of pleasure.

Keeping her hand on him, but pulling her fingers slightly away, she held them over the head of his penis to feel hot jets splash against her hand. Her womanly power over him felt natural and earthshaking at the same time.

Teresa righted her position to put her head on Patrick's chest. He rolled towards her and landed in the warm wet he had left on her sheets and quickly moved his body. "Uh-oh. Somebody's going to know I've been here."

"Yes. I will." Teresa smiled at him.

"Ohhhhh, I like that. Because I love you, Teresa Lisbon. You know that, don't you? I'm in love with you. Have been for as long as I can remember."

"Now how would I know that if you never told me until last night?"

He gently brought his face to hers for a long kiss. "Belladonna."

Caressing his beautiful face, she looked directly into his eyes and said, "I love you, Patrick. I can't remember when I didn't."

"We did okay, then? We didn't ruin our friendship?" He really wanted to know how she felt.

"No. We're the lucky ones. I think it makes us better. Think of all the pleasure we have to explore together now."

Soon he was pressing against her in renewed desire, this time wanting to join her body. "I'll never forget how you woke me this morning, Teresa. I didn't know you would make love to me that way."

"I want to make love to you every way we can think of! And you let me watch you handle yourself just now. You blew me away. God, that was hot! One of these days I want to kiss you there and take you all the way myself."

"I'm thinking later today."

"Oh? Making plans?"

"Maybe. When will you let me watch you?"

"I'm thinking later today."

"Anything. A man will do anything to get into the hot pussy of the woman he loves."

"And this woman wants his fat bad boy in there!" Laughing, Teresa pulled him onto her body and he plunged into her.

"Ohhhhhhhh," he said. "You can talk dirty to me anytime."

But neither of them talked again for a while.


End file.
